


Rock is About You

by JeanPoutine



Category: School of Rock - Lloyd Webber/Slater/Fellowes
Genre: Dewey is good with kids, Families of Choice, Fluff, Hugging, It's more like, Let your Freak Flag Fly, Sticking it to The Man, except, teachers of choice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanPoutine/pseuds/JeanPoutine
Summary: Very short one-shots about Dewey Finn listening to the kids, and teaching them about being true to themselves. Basically, Dewey Finn being who he is and letting his kids be who they are. School of Rock the Movie and the Musical.
Relationships: Dewey Finn & Children
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Rock Is About Being Different -Billy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy doesn't want to be the stylist anymore. He thinks his dad would probably like it more if he were security. Dewey does not give a heck about what Billy's dad thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know I can't write. No, that will not stop me. Yes, I have a lot of feelings. No, this is the only outlet I have.

‘Mr. Schneebly, I changed my mind,” Billy said to Dewey one day after class. “I want to be security for the band, not the stylist.”

Dewey looked up from where he was packing up his stuff. “Dude, if this is about you being worried that people will hate what you design, don’t be. I have seen the craziest outfits at rock concerts. I know anything you create will be bitchin’.”

“No, I know that whatever I design will be… bitchin’. I just think security is a better fit for me.”

Dewey slowly looked at the kid’s bedazzled pant cuffs and his coiffed hair and said “…Alright bro. You just don’t sound convinced.”

“No, I am,” Billy insisted, flapping his hands. “It’ll be better for me to protect the band. It is a man’s job, and men like protecting stuff. And it’s what my dad would want.”

Dewey sighed and resigned himself to being late getting home, “Billy, bud, what did we just talk about today? We talked about sticking it to the man.” He looked down at Billy and saw him looking unconvinced. He thought for a long minute about Billy, and about the day they just finished, then finally asked, “Is that why you suggested ‘Pig’s Butthole’ or whatever for the band name?”

“Well the name is pretty gross, and boys like being gross, and I am a boy so.”

“Billy, not all boys like gross stuff. Not all boys are supposed to be the same. It’s like… imagine if Pink Floyd and AC/DC and Led Zeppelin all sounded the exact same. Only like Led Zeppelin would be famous, and the others would be boring and unoriginal. Each rock band brought in something different, and they each made killer sounds that made rock what it is today. It wouldn’t be as kick-ass as it is today if not for all those different bands. Are you picking up what I’m throwing down?”

“No.”

Dewey crouched down and looked at Billy in the eyes. “Being different is a good thing. Being different is an amazing thing. If you are different then you better flaunt that difference, and flaunt that specialness, because being different is the mast amazing thing you can be.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with me wanting to be security?”

Dewey signed and stood up straight. He considered that top of Billy’s head then held out his hand. Billy looked at him, confused, as Dewey wiggled his fingers. “Phone, man. Hand me your phone.”

“What are you gonna do with it?” Billy asked as he slowly pulled it out of his bag and handed it over.

“Chill little man. I’m just gonna open the notes app.” Dewey typed something in and then handed the phone back over to Billy. “Listen, I have a special assignment for you. When you get home, research the song I typed in. I think it may help you out.”

“Shrek the musical? Listen Mr. S, I don’t think my dad would want me to be watching bootlegs online…”

“It’s just the one song, Billy, don’t freak. And I thought we were sticking it to the man. Who cares what our parents want or think.”

“Mr. S, I just think being security is the real me and- “

Dewey interrupted Billy by rolling his eyes and groaning. “Billy, I have been your teacher for the past couple weeks. I’ve seen your doodles. Those outfits you draw up look super cool. I don’t know anything about fashion, and I would wear like, everything you’ve drawn. Except for the outfit with the mesh. That one was weird.” Dewey leaned on the desk next to Billy. “The real you is not security. The real you is someone super talented and possibly gay and good at designing clothes.”

“Gay?”

“The point is,” Dewey cut in quickly. “You wanted to be the stylist and you are going to be the best god dam- darn stylist I have ever seen.”

Dewey stood up abruptly, and shooed Billy out his door. Now go on, your parents are waiting for you. And if you tell anyone I know the lyrics to musicals, I will kill you. I am not joking.”

  
The next day Billy came in early and made a beeline for Dewey’s desk, where Dewey was trying to keep his eyes open long enough to finish his coffee.  
“Mr. Schneebly.” Billy poked at his shoulder. “Mr. Schneebly. Wake up, I need to talk to you.”

Dewey groaned and rested his head against the desk. These goddamn kids and their chipper selves were really doing him in this early in the morning.“Yes, little Billy. What do you need? Please speak in small words I can’t understand anything this early in the morning.”

Billy giggled. He grabbed the sides of Dewey’s face and lifted his head so Dewey could look into his eyes. Billy began to speak before he could say anything.  
“Mr. S, I though a lot about what you said yesterday, and I listened to the song you told me about. I think, maybe, my true me might be happier being the band stylist instead of security. I’m not like the other boys, and maybe that’s okay.”

Dewey stared dumbly at Billy and then struggled to stand up. “Welp, I’m glad that-oof” Dewey suddenly found himself with an armful of Billy squeezing very tightly, then quickly letting go.

“You are tacky, but maybe you’re alright I guess.” Billy went back to his seat as the last stragglers of his class wandered in and sat down when the bell rang. Dewey was left with a strange feeling in his chest, and a weird sense of pride for the kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh apparently I'm now in the School of Rock fandom? I'm basing it off the musical, but is movie compliant I think.


	2. Rock is About Making Mistakes-Zach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach can't let the emotion in and is always worrying about being perfect. Dewey leads by example and shows him that no one is perfect.

"Dude listen," Dewey said to Zach during practice. "You gotta get all loosey-goosey. We have a saying in the rock community: If you're stiff, you can't play a riff, and your message will become a hieroglyph."  
Zach rolled his eyes. "That doesn't even make sense. And I can't play 'loosey-goosey'-," He imitated Dewey's tone "-or I'll make a mistake."  
"Okay, I can see that the entire musical number we just performed about sticking it to the man had no effect on you. Let's talk after class," Dewey said to Zach. "And the saying totally makes sense, 'specially since I just made it up," He muttered quietly.  
Dewey had thought that Zach knew that rock was about Sticking It To The Man, and not about being perfect, but apparently the message had not stuck. As Dewey gathered his notes for rock history, he absently wondered if there were any rock songs about making mistakes and not being perfect. Dewey snorted. He couldn't just pass every lesson off on a CD -even though he could think of four songs off the top of his head- he needed to hammer the message into Zach's head. Needed to make sure Zach really understood his point.  
And it would give him a chance to connect with the kid, which he hadn't had much luck with yet. It seemed Zach was permanently closed off and angry. Dewey was not about teaching kids how to manage their anger, unless it was anger towards society. Anger at themselves was a whole different can of worms Dewey did not want to open unless he had to. Dewey sighed. He had a lot of work to do before classes were finished for the day.  
\-----  
"Schneebly," Zach said flatly to Dewey at the end of the day.  
"Zach," Dewey said, just as monotone.  
"You wanted to see me?" Zach replied when the silence dragged on a little too long.  
"Oh yeah!" Dewey jumped out of his seat and faced Zach. "I wanted to talk about you being a perfectionist. Your guitar technique and what we talked about with the whole class today."  
"You mean the big 'F-you' you told us to give to our parents?" Zach rolled his eyes dismissively. "Yeah, I think we all got that message loud and clear."  
"No it wasn't -I mean it was, but -it's not about your parents." Dewey fluttered his hands in agitation. "It was about standing up for yourself and letting people know how you feel. If you let people walk over you for the rest of your life then you'll never -nope. Sorry wrong lesson. I'm getting off track. It was about you worrying so much about getting all the notes right that you forget to add emotion to your playing."

Zach crossed his arms over his chest. “But if I focus too much on emotion, I’ll get the notes wrong. I’m not good enough to do both. I’m not meant to be playing on a stage. I have to focus on the notes I’m playing.”  
“Dude, that is the opposite of what I’m trying to tell you. The notes don’t matter! I mean, they do matter but they matter the least. The thing that matters the most is the expression and the feeling in your playing and in your music. Most people out in the world don’t know anything about music. They just spend their days in blissful apathy. The one thing they can understand is emotion. Imagine you’re talking to a group of people from all over the world. No one speaks the same language and none speak even a hint of English. If you talk calmly, no matter what you’re saying, they are not gonna listen to you. If you yell and scream and shout, they will get the gist of what you are saying. Capiche?”  
“Playing music is like talking? And English is getting the notes, but the world doesn’t know English?” Zach huffed his frustration. He sat on a desk and put his head down on his arms. “I don’t get it.”  
“Yes you do Zach. You don’t need to speak English to talk to the people. You need to get your point across. And yeah, sometimes the best way is by shouting. But the emotion is the most important part. You can speak every language in the world, but there will always be people who don’t understand.”  
“I don’t understand whatever language you’re speaking right now.”  
“Yeah, I kinda lost the metaphor too. What I mean is that nobody gives a hoot about the notes. They give a hoot about the emotion.”  
“My dad gives a hoot.”  
“Who?”  
“Hoot.”  
“Jesus Christ I cannot deal with this,” Dewey groaned, throwing his head back. “Okay, ignore everything I’ve said until right now.”  
“Easy,” Zach said, lifting his head off his arms to glare at Dewey.  
“Hey, don’t get sassy with me young man! I’m trying to help you. You mentioned your dad. I think that he would be proud of you being a rock star at the age of like six. He probably wouldn’t even notice if you flubbed on a couple of notes,” Dewey said.  
“First, I’m eleven, so shut up Schneebly,” Zach ticked off his fingers. “Second, my dad notices everything. Trust me, if I made a mistake, he would love to point it out. The only way my dad would even a tiny bit be proud of me is if I perfected the song, then never played again, and became a businessman like him.”  
Dewey stared at Zach for a few moments until Zach lowered his gaze. Dewey had originally thought the roadblock to getting Zach to loosen up was going to be like, learning to be confident, not this parental crap.  
He sighed. “Zach, I’m guessing your dad has high expectations for you. Would I be correct in saying he doesn’t like it when you mess up?”  
Zach snorted. “My dad doesn’t like it when I lose at anything. I’m supposed to be perfect like my perfect older brother and my perfect older sister.”  
Dewey sighed “Well, excuse my language, but that’s bullshit.”  
“What? You can’t say that!”  
“Well I just did so too bad,” Dewey said and raised his eyebrows. “Listen to me kid, it is so cliché to say but making mistakes is how you learn. Didn’t you ever watch Magic School Bus as a kid? And nobody is perfect even if they seem like they are. I can guarantee it.”  
“Yeah, try telling my dad that.”  
“I will. I’m gonna see him at parent’s night, and I’ll tell him then.”  
That startled a laugh out of Zach. “You can’t do that. You have to tell him what perfect kids we are and how we are becoming the leaders of our generation and have already gotten accepted to Harvard.” Zach slumped his shoulders and said “It doesn’t matter. My dad will never be proud of me.”  
Dewey smiled gently at Zach. “That’s his loss. I know that you’re very talented and any parent would be glad to have you as a kid. And for what it’s worth, I’m super proud of you.”  
Zach glanced sharply up at Dewey. “Proud of me? For what? I’m disrespectful to you in class, you haven’t assigned any schoolwork so you don’t know how smart I am, and now I can’t even play guitar properly!  
Dewey felt something small and soft melt in his chest. He stood up, turned his back to Zach, and started walking out of the classroom. “Well, I’ve seen you help your classmates pick up their books, and I’ve seen you help them with their music. I’ve seen how kind and caring you can be. Mostly, I’ve seen that you try. And I think that’s enough to be going on, don’t you?”  
Dewey turned back at the doorway and saw Zach staring at him with a weird expression on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow buddy.”  
“Yeah,” Zach said, starting to smile. “See you tomorrow Mr. S.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very drunk when I wrote this but no regrats.


	3. Rock Is About Friendship-Marcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Magic of Friendship (bleugh)

Dewey was often called weird when he was a kid, and let's face it, he was kinda weird. He was sloppy and chubby and loved music a little too much. He wasn't girl-obsessed like his classmates and found it hard to connect with anyone who wasn't interested in music.

Worst of all, he noticed stuff. When Dewey was in fifth grade he knew that Julie Hong was stealing people's snacks from the coatroom, and he knew that Brendan Kirkland and Deven Ferris had kissed behind the school, just to see what it felt like. He saw that Sarah Kazzam's eyes were red from crying because she missed her mom, and that Sammy Karlsson hated apples even though she got one in her lunch every day. 

Dewey remained a perceptive person, even if he didn't always know what to do with the information. He knew that one of his backup singers, Marcy, ate her lunch alone all the time. He noticed that she liked cats and her favourite TV show was The Fairly Oddparents and that she had a little brother and that she was constantly talking to Shonelle in class, but she _always_ ate lunch alone. 

Now Dewey liked to think of his band as a family. They spent enough time together that if they didn't get along the chemistry of the performance wouldn't be banging. And Dewey wanted their shows to be banging. So if there was a problem with Marcy and Shonelle's friendship, then he had to fix it. He knew that Marcy never initiated conversation, so it was up to him to make his band a seamless found family.

"Hey Marce -can I call you Marce? -anyway, what's kicking?" Dewey said, slinging down next to Marcy in the cafeteria during lunch. "...um. Nothing much. What's kicking with. Um. You?" Marcy glanced around in confusion. "Do you need something?" "Nah -just wanted to chat while eating my triple layer baloney cheese mayonnaise sandwich. Speaking of, do you happen to have some hot sauce? Franks? Probably not. You know, when I was a kid, I hated hot sauce. Couldn't eat anything spicy either. Once, I was at this Mexican restaurant with my friends and -" 

As Dewey let words flow out of his mouth, he glanced around and saw Shonelle sitting a few tables over and sitting with a few girls he didn't know. "-and that was how I found out that Canadian milk is like, a million times better than American milk. Something about hormones. Hey, I have a question not related to anything but, why don't you eat lunch with Shonelle? You guys literally never shut up in class and it's so annoying-" Dewey glanced at Marcy as he asked the question, and saw her head slump and a blush rise to her cheeks "-but annoying in a good friendship way." 

Dewey let his voice trail off when he noticed that Marcy had put her juice box on the table and wrapped her arms around her stomach. He was just about to change the subject when Marcy said "Her friends are in class 5B, so she eats lunch with them. And I don't want to barge in and they probably don't like me anyway." 

As Marcy's shoulders slumped, Dewey reached over and grabbed a handful of her fishy crackers. "Do you know that they don't like you? Have they ever said that?" 

"Well, no, not exactly, but they always stop talking when I'm there, and talk about things I don't understand, and Shonelle probably doesn't want me there so I eat my lunch alone," Marcy said in a rush. 

"Has Shonelle said that?" Dewey asked tentatively. "Not exactly," Marcy mumbled. Dewey let out a little chuckle. Marcy lifted her head and glared indignantly at him. "It's not funny." 

"Oh I know, I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh. It's just I know exactly what's going on. It's a classic case of shy-berculosis. And luckily, I know how to fix that." 

"That's not a real thing," Marcy grumbled. 

Dewey sniffed haughtily, "It is too. And I can prove it. I want you to listen very carefully to me. Here is what's happening; Shonelle is eating lunch with her friends that she doesn't see in class. They don't know you, so they're a little shy around you. And they're probably talking about things that are happening in their class, so of course, you don't understand. I bet Shonelle doesn't understand either. And you're Shonelle's best friend. I know she would really like it if all her friends got along and knew each other." 

Dewey watched as Marcy mulled it over. He grinned to himself as she seriously considered him. Her serious expression was a little funny on such a young face, but he made sure not to laugh. "I guess, you make a little sense. Shonelle does ask me every day to eat lunch with her, and I always say no. But her friends probably don't want any more friends." Marcy shook her head defiantly.

"I know they have their friends, but what is one friend more?" Dewey paued to let the sentence sink in. "I think that any 5 year old in this school would be lucky to be your friend. No one else is a backup singer to the best band ever."

"Mr. S," Marcy finally giggled, "We're in grade five, we're all ten. And I'm pretty sure you said The Rolling Stones is the best band ever." 

"Well, The Rolling Stones don't have the amazing, the glass shattering, the best friend duo Marcy and Shonelle as their backup singers, do they?" 

Dewey stood up, getting ready to leave the cafeteria, "Tell you what, eat lunch with them for the rest of the week, and if you still think they don't like you, then I'll leave you alone. Kay?" 

Marcy hesitantly agreed, and stood up as well. She suddenly threw her arms around Dewey and gave him a quick hug. She gathered her lunch and ran out of the cafeteria. 

Dewey grinned, a little stunned, and considered his conversation a job well done. He wanted his band to rock, and they couldn't rock if there was tension. He didn't care about the little gremlin's squabbles, really. But he still found himself chuckling as he walked back to his classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, this is dedicated to my readers, if any of you are real and not bots or my sister, Emma. Christ, barely a 1000 words. Writing is so hard. I hope you all know that this is really bad writing. And I'm not saying that just to get compliments. I know my strengths.   
> It's just when I started reading fanfiction at the tender age of too young, I thought everything was amazing, and now when I got back to my fav stories on fanfiction dot net, I just- they suck. 
> 
> Kay, that's it. If the gods smile upon me, I might even post another chapter a million months from now.   
> And don't watch Alex Brightman's SVU episode. It made me hate him a little. He's a good actor.


End file.
